I remember that night.

I remember how thin the air was on top of my platform, how I had to breathe twice as much to keep from losing my balance.

I remember how the chalk on my palms felt, and the white clouds it made when I clapped my hands together.

I remember the bright lights as they bathed the empty ring beneath me.

I remember the random flashes coming from all sides, as the hundreds of cameras that the ticket holders and reporters had brought with them went off again and again, hoping to capture every second of the coming event.

I remember how my parents looked, across from me on the other platform, smiling and waving at the crowds below, with not a care in the world.

I remember how cold the bar felt between my fingers as I adjusted my grip for the swing.

I remember my father shouting to me from across the gap. Last minute instructions to keep the stunt from failing.

I remember me leaving the platform, falling for a split second before the wires went tense, and carried me towards the center of the ring.

I remember seeing my father dive out as I swung back to the platform I'd just dropped off of.

I remember releasing as I came back out, bringing my legs in and flipping backwards, my momentum carrying me around until I saw the outstretched arms of my father, hanging by the knees from his bar.

I remember the screams, the gasps of awe from below, as the hands of my father grasped my wrists, saving me from an untimely demise.

I remember the cheers as the two of us floated back to the platform, as my father released me to the waiting arms of my ecstatic mother, who hugged me and cheered as much as the crowd below.

I remember the endless cries of admiration as we carried ourselves down the ladder, and reached the ring, before waving to the crowds that surrounded us.

I remember that night.

I remember the shots, first one, then a second, as everything seemed to slow to a crawl.

I remember my father as he dropped to his knees, a stunned look on his face, before falling backwards onto the floor.

I remember my mother, who gasped ever so slightly, grasping at her neck, before collapsing on her face, her face now cold and lifeless.

I remember the screams as the crowd dispersed, running for their lives from the unknown asailant.

I remember the red which now covered the floor, pooling around my feet, soaking into the soles of my shoes.

I remember shaking, not entirely realising what had happened.

I remember looking up, to the face of my parents killer, as he aimed for a third shot...